


Don't Say This House Isn't Haunted

by ladyflamingo



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Death (Jason), Dark, F/F, F/M, Incest, Jughead is the best bf ever, Self-Harm, The Blossom Family Curse, but nothing explicit, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflamingo/pseuds/ladyflamingo
Summary: Cheryl would whisper to him at night, “Only a Blossom can love a Blossom.” At first, it was forlorn, but then it was matter-of-fact, as honest as their hands clasped together, and their cheeks pressed.





	Don't Say This House Isn't Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> I always liked the idea of Cheryl/Betty, even after it was revealed that they were related. I mean, I'm already trash so why not? That being said this is low-key bughead. This story was inspired by similarities between the Coopers and the Blossom. I noticed very early on that they were both VERY messed up, and finding out they they're related was like OH OKAY MAKES SENSE. Also, Haunted Houses by Emma Ruth Rundle. Go listen?

1\. Jason

Jason was born with a lot of responsibility. And it wasn’t being a heir to a maple syrup company. It wasn’t being the heir to an underground drug ring. It was keeping the dark secrets from washing over him like tide and drowning his sister. When he was twelve years old, watching her mother rear back, poised to backhand his sister, and he was there before he knew it, holding her hand in a bruising grip. “You’re not going to like what happens if I ever see you hit her again,” he spat out, anger gripping him like it never had. He doesn’t recognize himself, he’s shaking more than Penelope is. He’s afraid of himself. 

But later that night Cheryl crawled into his bed, giggling with her split lip and her red cheek, “Oh, JJ!” she whispered in delight, and he tightened his arms around her, “You’re my hero, you’ll always be my hero!”

He was her hero when he punched Chuck and made him apologize after the asshole said something lewd about her ass. He was her hero when she was crying, afraid she didn’t make the cheer team. And he was her hero she wobbled in stilettos on their third story ledge in the middle of they annual Christmas party—all red tulle and snowflakes, ruined mascara, and finality. All he needed to do was offer his hand and she was down, nearly catatonic in his arms. He knew that their mother would send her away, so they didn’t tell anyone. 

Cheryl would whisper to him at night, “Only a Blossom can love a Blossom.” At first, it was forlorn, but then it was matter-of-fact, as honest as their hands clasped together, and their cheeks pressed. He thought it was true—the true thing he knew—until Polly Cooper. But even then…

2\. Cheryl 

JJ was gone. She was alone. If only she’d held onto his hand a little longer. If only she’d memorized his footprints in the dirt. If only, if only. He was supposed to come back. She’d thrown a tantrum, yelling at him, asking him, “Do you love me, do you even care?!” And he had smiled that serene smile and told her she was being silly. How could he ever leave her behind? They were going to escape everything dark and Blossom, the creaking halls and painful silence. Things were going to be different. She didn’t know the whole plan. She didn’t need to. She trusted Jason with everything she was. 

Without her brother to act as a buffer her mother started hitting her again. Nothing to show. Slaps and squeezes and acting as if Cheryl was dirt underneath her shoe, praying everyday that her wish would com true—that she would wake up, and Jason would be alive, Cheryl dead in his place. 

Cheryl wished for that every night as well. She dreamed of her brother, his soft smile, the scent of grass and Versace cologne, eyes lighter than hers peering down. His wit and his kindness. Only a Blossom can love a Blossom. In hindsight, that was probably why she was so drawn to the Coopers. Polly’s crumbling innocence, her loss, and the two things left of JJ growing in her stomach. She thought that was why, that was the reason she had to protect Polly. But it was something else. 

And when the truth cam out, she’d looked at Polly, eyes shining with tears as she left. And she was alone again.

3\. Betty

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, and she hadn’t told anyone. Not even Ronnie. Not even _Jughead_. And above the shock, the uneasiness about Polly and Jason, was the anger. She was lied to, she was shut in the dark, and if her parents had only told them the _truth_ , if they only had the strength to be honest, if they didn’t let lies and the secrets tear them apart…

Her fist unclenched, and her palm were adorned wth bloody crescent moons.

“Makes sense,” comes Cheryl Blossom’s voice, her cousin’s voice.

She was still in her cheerleading uniform, but Betty has almost changed out, in the locker room with in only her jeans and bra. Cheryl walked close, slowly, her face impassive. She took Betty’s hands and looks, brushed over the wound with her red nails. Betty shivered, and Cheryl still held her hands, her brown eyes lifting, looking into hers with something so sure, so _true_ , that Betty was alarmed.

“The Blossom curse,” Cheryl said softly, with a shrug, “Anger, grief, melancholia, loneliness. Pick one.”

Betty snatched her hands away, “What are you talking about?” Her heart picked up speed.

“Have you told your boyfriend? Your friends?”

At first Betty thought she was referring to the secret, the family secret. That they were all related, the Polly’s babies were the product of incest, that their parents hid the truth from them, and that Polly cried that first night home. But then she realized Cheryl was talking about her palms, fists held so tight they cut.

“Jughead knows,” Betty didn’t know why she told Cheryl, it was none of her business.

Almost immediately, the other girl lifted the corner of her mouth in an attempt at a smile. “He’ll never really understand.”

Betty frowned, “What are you talking about?” Her mind went back to that night at Pop’s, feeling safe and warm, Jughead’s cut cheek making him look dashing, and his lips on her hands. He was perfect in his imperfection. Accepting, and lovely, and the unspoken promise that whatever happened they’d face it together. And not for the first time, she thought but didn’t say, _”I love you.”_

But, Cheryl’s eyes were glassy and seductive, an odd type of empty, drawing her in like a moth to flame, dangerous and unescapable. And as only Cheryl Blossom can, the girl reached into her, and pulled out her worst fear: “He’ll try, but he won’t be able to. Once he sees who you really are, everything that you’re hiding, he’ll leave. Only a Blossom can love a Blossom.”

The last words made her freeze, cut out something in her, rocked her certainty. And then Cheryl was on her toes, placing a chaste kiss to her lips. Betty drew back with a gasp, and took a step back. When had they gotten so close? Her stomach turned over at that thought. At the kiss. At the fact that it didn’t exactly feel wrong.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Betty said fiercely, “I’m not like you.” She thought about Polly’s devastation, her grief. She thought about Jason’s death, killed by his own father, who hung himself after the truth was revealed. Penelope Blossom, her cycle of emotions: devastated, angry, numb, devastated, angry, numb. And she thought about Cheryl, utterly alone and on the edge of something she couldn’t come back from. “I’m not like any of you.” 

Cheryl smiled now, a smirk, something familiar and it eased Betty, just a little bit, “No. We’re the same, Bettykins,” she smoothened a stray lock of hair back into her perfect ponytail, “You’ll be happier, less angry, when you accept it. When you accept that I’m the only one that can take care of you. I’m the only one that can truly love you.”

She walked out of the locker room, without changing out of her uniform, carelessly in contrast to her purposeful entrance. And Betty wants to squeeze her fist so tight her blood flows from the cuts and she can be no one.

4\. Polly (and Jughead)

He was confused. He was worried. Betty hadn’t been answering her phone in days, she hadn’t been to school, and when he finally got the courage to go and knock on her door, Polly answered. He thought, once they all found out who killed Jason, once everything was laid to rest, and the incredulous thought of Jason Blossom haunting their dreams and begging for release had ended…he thought it would life a cloud off of Riverdale. He should have known better. Betty was missing, and Polly’s dark circles showed that she couldn’t have been getting enough sleep. The thought of it sent a sharp sense of panic toward them, and he lead her inside.

“Nobody’s home?”

She shook her head, forlorn.

“Betty.”

Polly paused half-way up the stairs, and then continued, leaving his not-question unanswered.

“You stay here, I’ll make you some soup.” After everything, Polly couldn’t be ill, definitely not. They’d come too far, and those babies were like…a second chance. For all of them.

“It’s been so awful, all of it,” Polly confessed, voice strained, when they were in her room. “When Jason’s killer was found, we all thought it would solve everything. That it would put pieces back together that shouldn’t have been missing. Something like closure. But, it’s not like that at all.”

Jughead frowned. There were so many questions left, that was true. Why did Clifford Blossom kill his son? What secrets were the Blossoms really hiding underneath their melancholy? He was still a little bit obsessed with playing detective, but he couldn’t do it without Betty. When he heard a sniffle, he looked up. Polly hadn’t touched her food.

“You need to eat, Polly,” he insisted.

She stared at him with a sad smile, “Betty’s so lucky to have you,” she said suddenly, “I miss Jason so much. But everything we had, everything we were,” tears gathered in her eyes, “It was wrong. So why does it feels like the realest, most vivid thing I’ve ever known? Like I’ll never be alive again?”

“How was it wrong?” He asked, confused. He never really understood the push and pull between Polly and Jason. The rumors had overshadowed the truth. Up until recently he heard Polly was a lost soul, abused by Jason Blossom and thrown away. A drug user, even. But, it hadn’t been like that at all. They’d been in love, so tragically in love. An epic story of two rival families that only had one possible finale—death and heartbreak. Murder, even.

Polly just sighed and began sipping at her soup, “She’s at Thornhill.”

And that shocked Jughead, so some reason, to his core.

“Betty’s at Thornhill, because there’s something wrong with all of us, and it can’t be fixed.” 

Jughead sat there, at the edge of Polly’s bed, to make sure she ate her soup. Then he would get her some water, and make her sleep. And he would stay at the Cooper’s, watch over his girlfriend’s sister, and wait until Betty came home, so he could tell her that she wasn’t alone, and that she didn’t need to be fixed, that he loved even the parts of her that she couldn’t stand show him.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all I have to say for myself. Leave a comment if you want!


End file.
